A Dragon's Tale
by bubblegum2000
Summary: In his quest for answers, Soujirou meets two women who are going to change his life. One of them will be Misao... [No Mary Sue][Update Chapter 9]
1. Prologue

Ok, this is my first Rurouni Kenshin fanfic. It's a story about Soujiro and well, Misao too. But Soujirou is THE main character. There will be appearances of the other RK characters of course but the Kenshigumiwill be insignificant for example. But there will be an OC! I hope you'll enjoy the story. I start with the prologue and the first chapter (because the prologue is a bit incomprehensible for the moment but hopefully it will make sense later! Same thing for the title!).

Oh and by the way, it would be really angsty. Well you'll see soon. If you have time, I love to get reviews!

Enjoy!

* * *

Prologue

**_Xiao Sheng and the Dragon's Pearl _**

A long time ago, during the great drought, a boy named Xiao Sheng found a patch of lush grass that never diminished, no matter how often he cut it to sell it in the market as cattle feed. One day it occurred to Xiao Sheng that instead of travelling all the way to the patch each day to cut grass, he could dig it up and replant it at home. So he dug up the turf by the roots and beneath it found a wonderful pearl. Considering himself doubly lucky, the boy put it in his pocket and went home, where he planted the grass beside the hut he shared with his widowed mother and then hid the pearl in an almost empty rice jar where no burglar would think of looking.

_Next morning they woke to find that the grass had withered and died, but the rice jar was brimming over. That was when they realized they had found a dragon's pearl, because it is a virtue of these gems to multiply whatever they are kept with, be it rice, money or the patch of grass where this one had been found. From that day Xiao Sheng and his mother lacked for nothing, but because they were generous to their neighbours, rumours soon spread as to the source of their new-found prosperity. In time these tales reached the ears of the local landlord who soon turned up with soldiers to demand the pearl, claiming that it must have been found on his property (since he owned all the land in that region) and so rightfully belonged to him.  
_

_Rather than hand it over, Xiao Sheng swallowed the pearl. Immediately his stomach felt filled with a raging fire so he ran to the muddy trickled nearby which was all that remained of the drought-stricken river and drank and drank till it seemed he would drain it dry. And as he drank, he grew larger and larger and his form changed until the onlookers saw not a boy, but a mighty dragon which finally stopped drinking and turned to look around him with a certain wonder in his eyes. The landlord and his soldiers fled but the dragon flew swiftly after them and unleashed a flood which both drowned them and brought blessed relief to the parched land, so that the paddy fields filled and the river flowed strong and full again.  
_

_Finally, the dragon that had been Xiao Sheng took sad leave of his mother and swam away down river. To this day that stretch of it is called "Wang Niang Tan", which means the "looking back at mother bends" because when the dragon left the village through the river, it turned its head many times, and each time he turned, the dragon's massive body cut into the river's edge, sculpting the banks with his last farewell._

_Xiao Sheng and the Dragon's pearl, Chinese Tale_


	2. Grief and Sorrow

Chapter One

**Grief and Sorrow**

Rain was falling over Japan continuously and as soil was becoming more and more waterlogged, everybody's heart seemed to be drowning too. People were locked at home, waiting patiently for the end of Tsuyu, the rainy season. Every year, when spring came to an end, clouds gathered over the country and as heat joined them, water came pouring down on the land and the people. People were used to it of course, but still this time of the year was always long.

Sitting by the window, Misao was waiting too. She was waiting for the sun, for the next morning when she would bring tea to Aoshi, for a sign of him, for _anything_. And as the sky was crying its sadness, Misao was crying her sorrow. And yet, she didn't cry often. Crying was a weakness and she didn't want to be weak, she _couldn't_ be weak. Not with Aoshi. But sometimes, when everything was going wrong, when her heart was too heavy and she was too tired, she broke down and cried. Now was one of these moments. She was alone in the Aoiya, nobody could hear her cry. Aoshi was in the temple, meditating, trying to find peace. And even when he was here physically, his mind was somewhere else, probably with Hannya and the others, with his regrets and his demons.

And yet, she had tried, she had really tried… She had accepted him and his past; she had forgiven him even when he had tried to kill Okina, even when he had joined Shishio. She knew he needed time and so she had decided to wait for him. But he didn't seem to be capable of forgiving himself. And she was so tired of waiting. She had tried to make him proud of her: she trained hard, she became more interested in the political situation… She knew that, in his quest for redemption, he had decided to protect Japan. And she wanted to follow him! But everybody here was keeping her away from all the missions…

"Be careful Misao-Chan!"

"Don't fight with men in the streets Misao-Chan!"

"You should try to be more ladylike Misao-Chan! Why don't you try to wear a kimono for once?"

"Help us with the inn please!"

"Here is the tea for Aoshi, Misao-Chan!"

It seemed that the only thing she was capable of was bringing tea to Aoshi. He was treating her like a servant but it was to help him so she was okay. Except that she was not. She didn't give a damn about tea! She didn't give a damn about meditation! The man who was her living god since she was a child was ignoring her. She knew he cared deep down. But he didn't show anything. And she was tired, God she was so tired of giving all her love and not having anything in return. She didn't want a big declaration of love, no… time had passed and it wasn't her dream anymore. She just wanted a sign of him, a proof that he wanted to share something _more_ with her.

And even if nothing was indicating that this moment would come soon, she was still waiting. Because she knew that, like the rains ended with the coming of summer, her tears would stop soon. Because in the end, it was her greatest strength: hope.

* * *

Women were strange creatures. And so was Misao. Months had passed since the return of Aoshi and life in the Aoiya was peaceful. But Misao was changing. And Okina didn't like that. And yet, he had never been afraid of change. He was serene when the young Aoshi had become Okashira, he was a little apprehensive yet hopeful with the new Meji area and he was delighted with the return of Aoshi. But Misao… no he definitely didn't like the way she was changing. He wasn't thinking of her "title" of Okashira of course. Because she only possessed the title precisely. She wasn't taking part in the missions of the Oniwabanshû except for the rescue of her friend Kaoru a few months ago. He and Aoshi had decided to protect her and they were pretty successful.

But Misao was changing. Well to be exact, Misao was growing up. She was almost 18 and even if she still looked younger, she wasn't a child anymore. Her constant happiness wasn't so constant anymore; there was something graver in her beautiful eyes, a melancholy which wouldn't go away. Sometimes, Okina was observing her and could see it: Misao was looking for something else. Okina didn't know what it was and he was sure she didn't know either. That was the most scary he supposed. Maybe she was tired of the situation with Aoshi; maybe she knew that she wasn't really Okashira of anything…

Here she was looking by the window again, and waiting… always waiting. She had cried, he could clearly see it: her eyes were still red and puffy. God! He hated so much to see her like that. But as soon as she saw him watching her, the cheerful Misao was back. But her eyes were telling the truth: she wasn't happy at all. Despite her skills of ninja, Misao couldn't mask her emotions. Maybe that was her greatest quality: her sincerity.

Yes, Misao was changing. And for a few months, solitude and melancholia had been the only constant things about her. And no, Okina didn't like that.

_In the throes of sorrow, will Misao find a rainbow? _


	3. In These Dirty Streets

Notes: Thanks to the people who reviewed. You have no idea how much it's important for me (well actually you have an idea if you write fanfic). About the prologue, I searched a japanese tale but I didn't find one so I took a chinese one. The origin of the tale isn't important anyway (i'm not sure the prologue is important for the fic by the way lol).

If you have time, a little review would make my day. Criticism is welcomed too (I didn't say flame!).

Enjoy!

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Chapter Two

**In These Dirty Streets**

_Looking for a saviour in these dirty streets  
Looking for a saviour beneath these dirty sheets  
I've been raising up my hands- drive another nail in  
where are those angels when you need them?_

Why do we crucify ourselves?  
Everyday I crucify myself  
Nothing I do is good enough for you  
Crucify myself  
Everyday I crucify myself  
And my heart is sick of being in chains 

_Crucify, Tori Amos _

The rainy season was useful for only one reason: all the streets were deserted. People tried to go out as little as possible: they bought food, they went to work and that was all. There was no wander, no last drink. That's why Misao was alone in the empty streets at the moment. She needed solitude but being alone at the Aoiya was getting harder and harder. When it was not Okina who was watching her, it was the others who "needed" her. She was sure it was all Okina's doing. She knew the old man was worried. He was not stupid; he probably knew she was a bit depressed at the moment. But it was nothing serious; it would pass… maybe… hopefully…

Sighing, she retightened her coat. The heat had deserted too. It happened sometimes during the Tsuyu… She had been walking for two hours now and her clothes were soaked. She was freezing cold but she didn't want to go home now. But she knew that as soon as she would cross the threshold of the inn, everybody (except Aoshi of course) would make a fuss. It would be action stations! They would prepare her a hot cup of tea, send her to take a hot and long bath and after that, she would slip under her blankets and fall asleep in the warmth of home. If she didn't die from pneumonia before of course. But really, it was pitiful what she was doing to get comfort. But she liked it so much: having someone who cared for her. Sometimes, she thought that her love and devotion for Aoshi were pitiful too. But that was only sometimes.

How long had she been walking, lost in her thoughts? It was getting darker. It was a good thing that the days were getting longer: had it been winter, she would be plunged into darkness. Kyoto was really dreary with the rain, the cold and the gusts of wind. She had wandered too far from the Aoiya and she had to come back via the creepiest districts. She was starting to regret her perpetual sheer madness. She should have thought twice before running like a thief from the Aoiya with Okina yelling at her she was going to catch her death. But she had always been like that: she preferred acting and then thinking. Thus, she had nothing to regret. People used to say that living with remorse was easier than living with regrets. She wondered if Aoshi was thinking the same thing, he who lived with both. Maybe she should ask him. But talking philosophy with Aoshi seemed a bit… well she didn't know exactly but it just didn't feel right. God! She really felt sorry for people who were living here. It was maybe Meiji Era but there was still a lot of poor and she couldn't see where there was equality in Japan. She hadn't known the Edo period but things were probably the same at that time. When she had asked Okina, he just said that "things were difficult in those days". And that she had to be "hopeful for the future". She supposed he was right in a way but she wasn't sure things were really easier now. And she didn't see how things could change one day. Again, she should ask Aoshi his opinion but… well, whatever!

Suddenly, the endless melody of the rain was interrupted by loud voices. Misao hesitated for about two seconds before walking towards the voices. There was a group of guys on the bridge. And they had swords. They were not policemen, and not a lot of people had the courage (or was it madness?) to wear a sword now, especially in a big city like Kyoto. And here were about ten swordsmen. Yakuzas… Misao didn't like them. They were just corrupted samurais who had sold their souls for money. They didn't even deserve the title of samurai. She chose to ignore the nagging voice in her head murmuring that her Aoshi-Sama wasn't worth more when he was working for Kanryû. Forgiving was one thing, forgetting was another one. And to be honest, it still hurt to think about it.

She was distracted abruptly when she saw what the reason of the gathering was. Standing or rather trying to stand in the middle of the yakuzas, a man was living his last instants. His arms and his legs were tied and he had a big stone around his neck. That's why he couldn't stand. Filled with horror, Misao understood that they were going to throw him in the river and watch him drowning. That's when she heard the sound of a carriage. It had to be near here because the rain and the mud muffled the noises normally. She was right: a carriage was coming this way. During a few seconds, Misao felt relief: with a witness, the yakuzas would not dare to execute the poor man but soon, relief was replaced by worry. Something was wrong, she didn't know what exactly but she was sure of it. Hiding hastily behind a barrel, Misao saw the carriage going past her. The curtains were opened and as Misao took the risk of looking at the passenger, she saw the cruellest eyes ever staring at her! She didn't manage to hold her gasp and she immediately tried to hide even more. If she could disappear into earth at this moment…

Her heart was now beating like crazy. He had seen her, he knew she was here! She was gripped by fear. No! She needed to be clear-thinking. She must not give way to panic. But how could she stay calm? She could hear the carriage stopping and the door being slammed. The man was with the yakuzas! Huddled up, Misao wasn't moving. Actually, she couldn't move. But she had to! If she wanted to live, she had to run away. She could hear the men talking but the blood was beating so loud in her head that she couldn't understand what they were saying. They seemed to speak to the man of the carriage. Was he their boss? God! She was dead! He was speaking now. What was he saying? She didn't care, she had to go! But screams of horrors cut her determination short. The prisoner was now begging for his life. They were going to throw him over the bridge! She had to move, she had to save him! She couldn't bear it! His cries! They were horrible! But her legs didn't move and she didn't stand up: she was petrified. Where was her courage? Where was her sheer madness? Why was she thinking before acting only now? When someone was in danger. Was she so cowardly? Was she so weak? Instinctively, she plugged her ears to block the last cry of agony, to stop the flood of guilt, of shame.

And then… nothing. No more cries, no more sound. Just the noise of the rain still falling, as if nothing had happened. But the yakuzas were still here. And so was she. Why weren't they talking? She felt nauseous suddenly: could they be…?

"So kiddo… how long are you going to hide?"

Despair struck her when she heard his voice… as cruel as his eyes. But something snapped inside her and with a jerk, she stood up. She wanted to run but she stopped dead: she was surrounded. How was it possible? Okay she couldn't feel KI but she was a ninja for God's sake! She should have sensed it! Slowly, she looked at the men one by one. Deep down, she knew she shouldn't look at the "employer": she had enough problems; she didn't need to see his face so clearly. But she wasn't thinking straight. How could she? She was trapped by at least ten swordsmen! He was tall, quite elegant, his face had nothing original. But his eyes… as grey as steel and so cruel… so cold. He looked her up and down and then, he made the vilest smirk:

"A ninja, eh?"

Her heart missed a beat. Did he know the uniform of the Oniwabanshû?

"Kill her!"

Everything happened in a flash. As soon as he uttered the order, she saw the yakuzas rushing at her. But as he said, she was a ninja! And she wanted to live. In an instinctive reflex, she made a somersault to land outside of the circle of enemies. But she didn't even try to throw a kunai. She didn't have a chance against a group of trained samurais. So she did the only thing she could: she ran. Faster than she had ever been, not caring about the rain lashing her face and keeping her from seeing where she was going, not feeling the pain in her chest… she just ran. They were behind her, she could hear them yelling. But she was faster. The mud was making her slide but they had the same problem. But she didn't know the area. She was trying to lose them by turning into several alleys but fate was against her: she ended up in a cul-de-sac. There was a wall in front of her and at this moment, it seemed to be the highest she had ever seen. As she heard the men approaching, she felt panic flowing through her veins. She didn't want to die! But she didn't have the time to go back and the wall was too high! But they were coming closer. In a desperate attempt, she stepped back and taking a run-up, she jumped.

But not high enough. She only grabbed the edge with one hand. They were a few meters away from her. If they stretched out their arms… Frantically, she tried to hoist herself up. But it was too late. Instinctively, she closed her eyes. And in the silent Kyoto, something people hadn't heard for a long time rang out: a long piercing cry, one of pure terror.

_In this city where nobody cares, who could save Misao? _


	4. Tsukiyo

Notes:- It seemed that the prologue confused a lot of people lol! Nobody in the fic is chinese!

- Yakuzas exist since 1612! If you want more informations,this website is interesting : http/web.

**- Shoji** is a sliding door. Thin white paper is fastened on a wooden frame.They are often set at the windows facing the outside. A **fusuma** is made of a wooden frame and thick japanese paper, or sometimes cloth, which covers the frame. It is a kind of sliding door and is used to separate Japanese rooms.

Thanks to my reviewers. You made my day!

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Chapter Three

**Tsukiyo**

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock…That was the only noise in the room: this infernal ticking which always reminded that time was something humans could never control, never stop, never master. The only thing they could do was inventing machines to measure it. Time was something unreachable. Time was the partner of fate.

Tick-tock, tick-tock… And why had they invented something which got so much on her nerves? She hated clocks. She wanted to grab that stupid thing and smash it to pieces. Clocks were definitely the most annoying things in the world! Mind you… No actually, there was ONE thing more annoying, a thing which gave her cravings for murder and this thing was just in front of her at the moment, comfortably seated. She didn't deserve this! No she didn't. Why was she stuck with this bastard of…

"Drink your tea while it's hot weasel. I don't want you to catch a cold in my office: your morons of the Oniwabanshû would make a whole fuss… and I don't have time to waste."

Saitou Hajime… the wolf of Mibu, the ex-captain of the 3rd unit of the Shinsengumi, the master of the Gatotsu but above all, the most heartless bastard of the police! Glaring at him, she drank the hot cup of tea she had been holding for at least 10 minutes. It's not that she was afraid of Saitou, who was now taunting her with his stupid grin, but she was freezing cold and the heat of the tea looked like water in the desert. No, not water. She couldn't stand rain anymore. Still soaking wet, she felt like a sewer rat. Or a sewer weasel… Life was so cruel… she didn't deserve this.

But even if Saitou had a well established reputation of bastard (he knew that Kaoru was alive and he didn't do anything for God's sake!), he had saved her… again. When he had grabbed her wrist and pulled her on the other side of the wall, she had been so scared she had almost died. Her whole life had flashed before her eyes. And then the wolf had let go of her wrist and she had remained seated in the mud, too shocked to move, feeling sick. She remembered that Saitou hadn't tried to make her move and he hadn't even yelled at her. He had just put the coat of an unfortunate cop on her and he had waited. So yes, he was a bastard. And he was heartless. But he was her saviour. It must be fate again…

"What were you doing in this district? You had nothing else to do that wandering in the rain?"

She thought she heard him murmur something about "moron" and "Himura". It was probably "like this moron of Himura". In normal circumstances, she would have defended Kenshin but she was so tired. And she felt like a moron so…

"Well I'd like to say you're going back at your greasy spoon with the other people of you kind but you really are a pest so I won't."

"Wh… what? Why?"

"The Aoiya is probably already watched by the yakuzas. If you go back, you'll be killed. Even if your Shinomori is there…"

He had guessed what she wanted to say before she even had the time to open her mouth. Anger flared up inside her: how dared he? He hadn't done anything earlier; he hadn't even tried to save that guy! And he dared to mock Aoshi?

"You're such a bastard! Always so full of yourself! Aoshi-Sama is 1000 times better than you! You say you're a cop? But what were you doing when the yakuzas threw this man over the bridge? Eh? Let me guess! Looking for a cigarette perhaps? Oh no! I know! Reeling off your pseudo-morals. What is it again? Aku Soku Zan? Don't make me laugh. When I see you, I understand why the powerful Shinsengumi lost so pitifully! "

She had gone too far and she knew it. In a flash, he grabbed her clothes and pinned her to his desk. His amber eyes were flashing: the wolf was angry. Misao knew that she should have thought twice before insulting the Shinsengumi. But there was now way she was going to apologize.

"Listen carefully damn brat. First, the man now used as fish-feed wasn't worth more than the yakuzas who killed him. Why should I have saved a wretch like him? Secondly, you interrupted an important meeting with your foolishness. I was there to get information and you ruined everything. And thirdly, I don't care about your opinion. People have always hated the Shinsengumi and they always will."

The speech seemed to have calmed him. He had let go of her and he was now settled in his armchair, looking for a cigarette. He didn't say anything until he had puffed out smoke towards her. Eyeing her mockingly, his words hurt her more than a stab:

"And you weasel, why didn't you save him? Aren't you the Okashira of the Oniwabanshû?"

He was taking his revenge by humiliating her. She knew she had been weak. She _was_ weak. She hadn't moved when they killed him and contrary to Saitou, she didn't have any justifications for her behaviour. Ashamed, she didn't reply.

Saitou was satisfied with her reaction. The weasel had lost the few fangs she had.

"We're going to Tokyo. Hurry up! I want to catch the last train."

"What! No way!"

Well maybe she still had (small) fangs.

"You don't have the choice. If you stay in the Aioya, they'll get you. Not because the Oniwabanshû can't protect you but because you'll try to get out. It's in your nature. You know I'm right, so no need to argue."

No need to argue? She had never been so humiliated. She wanted to kill him, to strangle him, to… to… Argh! She hated him! But she didn't have the time to say anything: he was already standing, waiting for her.

"I won't go."

"You will."

"No."

"No? I told you, you don't have the choice. That's an order. Because even if you think I don't deserve it, I'm a cop. So stand up! "

"I can't! I have to speak to my family first!"

Wait! What was she saying? She was agreeing to leave! Where was her fighting spirit? Was it gone forever? She couldn't leave! She wasn't afraid of Saitou! Why would she obey him?

* * *

She was the worst ninja ever. Not to mention the worst Okashira. Wait! Who was she fooling? She wasn't Okashira of anything. It was Aoshi, it has always been. But that was okay she guessed: he was the strongest of them. He had proved it again when they rescued Kaoru. And really she was okay with all this. Sighing, she pressed her face to the window. She couldn't see anything: it was already 11 p.m.

"It's rude to arrive at somebody's house in the middle of the night. We should have waited. We're going to wake up Kenji."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Kenji! The baby of Kenshin and Kaoru! We're going to wake him."

Great! He was now looking at her as if she had horns on her head. This guy was hopeless. And to think that he was married…

"And who said that we're going at Himura Kaoru's place?"

"Huh? But… I thought I was going to stay with them. I mean, they are the only people I know in Tokyo… Where…"

"You're not safe in the Aoiya with this stupid ninjas, you don't really think you'll be safer with a stupid rurouni and his stupid friends, do you?"

"I… but where am I going to stay then?"

He was getting on her nerves! Not content with sending her off to Tokyo, he was placing her with people she didn't even know! It was a nightmare! Sighing again, she decided that looking by the window of the train was 100 times better than talking with him. What had happened to her life? She had enough to worry about with Aoshi, she didn't need this. Her heart was so heavy. The last time she felt like that was when Aoshi joined Shishio.

"Himura had chosen a peaceful life. Maybe it's better like that, he has become so weak. Anyway, if you stay with them, you will put everyone's life at risk… He's still a moron, but you have to respect his decision."

She knew he was right. Kenshin had suffered so much to make peace with himself. She didn't have the right to disrupt everything.

* * *

It was almost midnight and Saitou and Misao were walking in the dark streets of Tokyo. She was exhausted and soaked: it was raining here too. Finally, Saitou stopped. Finishing his cigarette, he sighed heavily. And he didn't move. What was he waiting for? She was a bundle of nerves: the cold, the rain, the strain, the hasty leaving, and the fact that she had almost been killed… She knew she could break down any minute now and HE was just looking at a stupid door! She nearly had a heart attack when she saw it opening, even though there was nobody…

"Come on!"

Saitou seemed tense. It was making her nervous. But when he entered, she followed him. What else could she do? She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed before how big the door was. Where was she? Saitou seemed to know the place perfectly: they were now standing in front of the shoji and she had seen nobody. The person who had opened the door hadn't showed up. It was strange…

"Here there's nothing to fear. You'll obey the owner of this house and you'll stay until I finish my investigation. Got it?"

"Who is the owner?"

"Got it?"

"Yeah! Who is the owner?"

"A woman. Her name is Tsukiyo."

"Tsukiyo… She doesn't have a family name?"

"Yes"

"…"

"What is it?"

"It doesn't concern you but if you really want to know, you should ask her."

Great! That was getting better and better. She didn't know how long she was going to be stuck here and the only information she had was a first name.

The house was very dark because of the night: Misao couldn't see anything but she had a strange feeling about this place… She was sure it was huge and splendid. She couldn't explain why, but she was sure of this. There was a pleasant smell of wood lingering in the whole house. They went upstairs and they stopped eventually. Saitou opened a fusuma as Misao was outraged by his total absence of good manners.

And then, Misao saw her for the first time. She was sitting on the floor with her back to them. For several minutes, no one moved, no one spoke. Finally, she stood up and turned round: she was probably the most beautiful woman Misao had ever seen. Maybe beautiful wasn't the best word. Her beauty wasn't usual: her face was angular, her skin so pale that she could look sick, and her legs seemed interminable. Her chestnut hair was longer than Misao's and was hanging loose around her. Her bangs were creating a beautiful contrast. She wasn't the kind of woman you met often. And a lot of people would say she wasn't beautiful at all. But not Misao. There was something else about her, something which intensified her strange beauty. But Misao was unable to express her feeling.

" My, my! Long time no see, Saitou-San…"

Her voice was lazy: she seemed to be exhausted. But when her eyes met Misao's, the young ninja couldn't look away: she was fascinated. Tsukiyo… Her name was perfect: she was as pale and entrancing as the moon.

_Who is this mysterious woman? Could she be the one who'll change Misao's life?_

* * *

Notes: - Tsukiyo means "moonlit night".

- A review please!


	5. The Spell's Broken

Notes: I know that my OC sounds like a Mary-Sue but she's not! I wasn't sure it was a good idea to cut the chapter at this moment but it was important for this chapter. But don't worry, Tsukiyo isn't perfect (not at all).

Thanks for your reviews (and don't worry Anithene, you're not too harsh!).

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Chapter Four

**The Spell's Broken**

Her eyes were brown with sparks of golden. How old was she? Probably over 30 but she seemed younger. Misao couldn't stop looking at her.

"Stop it!"

Saitou seemed annoyed. At first, Misao thought he was talking to her but he was looking at Tsukiyo and the woman seemed to have taken the order personally. She glared at Saitou but didn't say anything. Misao was studying her every move, waiting impatiently for her reaction. Suddenly, Saitou gave her a slap on the head:

"And you moron, stop looking at her like that. You're playing her game. She has been attacking you with her Ki since you entered the room."

Her Ki? She had already suffered an attack of QI once. It was Kenshin who was aiming for the Tenken. The ever-smiling brat had felt nothing but Misao could still remember it! And it had nothing to do with what she was feeling now!

"Saitou-San! It's not nice to uncover my tricks! I don't tell how Gatotsu can be defeated…"

Tricks? She had been tricked? But… no, there was no way this woman could control people's feelings like that.

"The Gatotsu can't be defeated. You know it."

"H'mm… are you sure?"

"You're being silly."

"Ouch! It hurts."

Why everybody was making fun of her and then ignoring her? Did they think she was so stupid, so insignificant? First Okina and Aoshi, then Saitou and now this woman… Why…?

"I think the girl isn't well."

Tsukiyo was looking at her as if she was a strange-looking creature. The spell was broken. Misao was now looking at a beautiful woman certainly but she wasn't so fascinating anymore. Her pallor that was beautiful before was now deathly. Was she sick? A few seconds ago, Misao had felt like a moth around a candle. Now she was feeling like a rabbit in front of a tiger… or a weasel in front of a tigress. Exhaustion was doing its work: she was breaking down. She was on the verge of tears. She hated them! She hated all of them: Aoshi, Saitou, the boss of the yakuzas, this woman.

"Go to bed weasel. There's a bedroom on the left, it's the second door.

"No!"

Tsukiyo had reacted in a flash. Misao and Saitou looked at her questioningly.

"I mean you can go to bed but not in this room. On your right, there's a perfect bedroom for a young girl. It's the 4th door."

"…"

"You can go! You looked tired."

"Ok. Thanks."

She didn't even wait for a possible reply, she was so tired. She found the bedroom immediately. The only thing she noticed was that there was a real bed! Not a futon, but a Western-style bed. These things were so rare in Japan. It cost a fortune. Who was this woman? Oh well, she would know it sooner or later. Maybe as soon as tomorrow. Yeah, she would ask her… tomorrow. God! These beds were so comfortable. Sighing with contentment, Misao felt asleep as soon as she closed her eyes.

* * *

"So… would you mind to explain what you are doing here with this girl? I mean, it's not that I'm busy but you know it's always a bit disturbing to see you turning up at my place at midnight…with a girl I never met… Wait! Don't tell me! You left Tokio to be with this child! You should be ashamed!"

"Stop making such a fuss. It doesn't work with me."

"You're still the same Saitou-San, always so nice…"

"The girl is going to stay here for a while. "

"Ha-ha, very funny! No way!

I don't like humans…

"But you like being stupid don't you?"

"H'mm… "

"I want you to protect her."

The fake smile disappeared immediately. She was now looking at him with suspicion.

"You mean… You want _me_ to protect her, or you want…"

"I thought it was the same thing."

"Well it is. But getting this kind of protection is not usual you know… "

"I won't pay you."

"No… really? Big surprise!"

She rolled her eyes and sighed. Then she gave him a sidelong glance.

"Well I can refuse you nothing, you know it. It's okay, she'll stay. And she'll be protected. But I want an explanation!"

"The yakuzas in Kyoto want to kill her. "

"And…"

"And that's all."

This guy was an idiot. And to think that he was married… Poor Tokio!

"Her name! I want her name!"

"Ah yes, Makimachi Misao."

"H'mm, it rings a bell. Who is she again?"

He couldn't stop himself rolling his eyes. He hated it when she was in this state. She was speaking too slowly and she was incapable of thinking. And all the room which was stinking of this damn smoke… He was sure Misao hadn't noticed anything at all, but she would soon discover it. Bah, she was old enough… It shouldn't be a problem.

"The Oniwabanshû."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

She was getting on his nerves now. She had already forgotten her own question!

"The girl! Makimachi was the name of the former Okashira of the Oniwabanshû. "

"Really? If you say so…"

He was going to kill her, to put an end to her pitiful life. He knew she wouldn't mind. She was already dead anyway… Irritated, he watched her turning back and sitting on the floor again. He wondered if she slept here every night, on the floor covered with carpets, rich fabrics and pillows. Then he didn't care: she could do what she wanted. That was not his problem. Speaking of problems…

"A last question Tsukiyo."

"Huh?"

"Can you explain why the Tenken lives here?"

Shock was written all over her face. She even seemed afraid, looking at him as a little girl looks at her father when he scolds her. God! She was the most annoying girl in the world!

"The Tenken…"

"Yes, Seta Soujirou one of the members of the Juppongatana. Don't play the innocent. I'm aware of his presence here since the first time he crossed the door two months ago."

"Well, why would you care?"

"Apart from the fact that he's an assassin who tried to destroy Japan, I don't care. "

"He doesn't want to destroy your _dear_ Japan anymore so there's no problem."

She had hissed the last sentence with contempt and anger. She was enraged now, while Saitou was trying to control his own anger.

"Stop that now! What do you want to do with him?"

"Nothing!"

"Really? Do you want to use him? To save him maybe? It's true that's you were the same as him when you were younger, could you feel sympathy for him? "

"Shut up! I don't want to save him. It's useless to save people! It's useless."

Her voice became a whisper. She was now curled up on the floor, murmuring again and again "It's useless, it's useless". It's true she knew what she was talking about but he couldn't let her playing with the Tenken. The boy was dangerous. He could have killed this stupid rurouni without any difficulty if he hadn't broken down. It was too dangerous to let him live with her. He had to take care of this now.

"You're too late Saitou-San."

"Pardon?"

"He has my protection."

"What!"

"Yes... But where is the problem? You wanted the same thing for the girl. "

"She's not a killer without emotions!"

"But I am a killer… Well I was. And I wish I had no emotions… So, I think he is going to stay here. "

"I'm warning you, I'm going to watch you and if the Tenken creates any problem…"

"He won't. And I will take care of the girl, don't worry. You can go back to Kyoto."

He was now standing next to her, watching her lying on the floor, already drifting off. She hadn't changed at all. Still an empty shell, without hope nor will to live. She should have died ten years ago but she was still alive… and still dangerous. He didn't know her projects with the Tenken but he knew that they were not innocent. Sighing, he put a blanket on her and left. The Tenken was always absent at this time of the night, he could search his bedroom.

_What will be Misao's reaction when she meets Soujirou? And will she be able to stay out of the schemes of Tsukiyo? _

* * *

Notes: - I'm not a ninja or a samurai so I don't know anything about KI lol! But here, let's say Tsukiyo uses her Ki to upset people, as if it was giving her a super charisma!

- I hope Saitou doesn't look too Out of Character. His behaviour with Tsukiyo can seem to be strange, but you'll understand why later.

- You probably guessed already, but the next chapter will be the first appearance of Soujirou! I know it took a long time but the chapters are longer than I thought they would be when I started writing. I don't know when I post the chapter (I have to write it first!) becauseI have to work onmy otherfic and I think I'm gonna translate a old fic in french (french is my native language so maybe it won't take so long).

- And if you have the time, drop a review! Criticism is very appreciated.


	6. As the spider spins its web

Yeah! Another chapter! Sorry, it was long but I worked on other fics.

I want to say THANKS to everyone who wrote a review. Thanks, thanks, thanks!

Hope the chapter isn't too long XD! And yes, he's coming: the only one... Seta Soujirou! (it's about time! sweatdrop)

* * *

Chapter Five

**As the spider spins its web…**

She was warm. The pillow under her head felt like heaven, the snug sheets around her were better than a cocoon: this was bliss. Misao was in this instant when you're not really asleep, not really awake, when you don't remember anything, when only sensations matter. Finally, she opened her eyes and as light assaulted her, she left that marvellous state of ignorance to find herself back facing reality.

Sitting lazily, she was lost for a few seconds. She didn't know this Western bed, this bedroom, this scent of rose filling the air. But eventually, memories came back and she recalled everything: this was not heaven. Yesterday, it even looked like hell.

Again, her first impression when she saw the decor was that this woman was rich, very rich. And (that was something which bothered Misao a lot), she had good taste. The bedroom was a mixture of the mysterious Occident and the Orient. Folding screen, mirror, rich fabrics, Western furniture… everything was arranged perfectly. The bedroom had a warm atmosphere and if Misao wasn't so lonely, she would have felt right here.

Standing up, she walked to the mirror: she looked like… well nothing. Her uniform was creased and had not appreciated the rain obviously and her hair… she didn't even want to think about her hair at this moment. She needed to bath and to change! But she didn't know where the bathroom was and she didn't even have a change of clothes thanks to this idiot of Saitou! All had happened so fast that she hadn't had the time to go back to the Aoiya. She hadn't said goodbye to anyone and THAT was what had broken her heart.

After having checked that the corridor was empty, she left the bedroom. She remembered where Tsukiyo's room was (and that was quite a feat taking into account her mental state last night!). Pressing her ear against the door, she listened: nothing. Seemed like she was asleep or not there. Misao was hesitating: she could open the shoji to check. If Tsukiyo was asleep, she wouldn't wake up (Misao could be discreet when she wanted to!) and if nobody was there… well she could always inspect the room. At this thought, a mischievous smile brightened her face.

"What are you waiting for?"

Misao leapt up in surprise and turned round: Tsukiyo was looking at her, slightly contemptuous. The young ninja gritted her teeth: she hadn't heard her coming behind her and that was something unforgivable for a ninja of the Oniwabanshû. If Tsukiyo was an enemy (and maybe she was, Misao hadn't decided yet), she would be dead. She watched Tsukiyo go in her room suspiciously but she followed her all the same: she wanted answers.

That's when something struck her: the room was almost empty. There was a kind of bed in the center and that was all. Ah yes, there was a strong odour that was rather unpleasant too. That was strange… in comparison with Misao's bedroom, this room was cold, soulless. And yet, she was sure Tsukiyo spent much more time here than in the guest room. She watched the strange woman adjust the pillows which were scattered all over the room. She looked tired and… God! She looked so sad. Misao felt a rush of compassion (or was it pity?) sticking her. Maybe Tsukiyo wasn't so bad after all…

"So what can I do for you, Weasel-chan?"

Or maybe she was. Misao felt a fit of rage. That was all Saitou's fault!

"I have a name!"

"Uh?"

"My name is Makimachi Misao!"

"Oh! Saitou-san didn't tell me."

Misao had doubts about that: Saitou may be an idiot but he wasn't stupid… er… well, whatever…

"So Misao-chan, did you sleep well?"

"Very well, thank you."

"Good, good, good…"

She obviously didn't give a damn: she was too busy admiring a pillow. Misao couldn't stand her anymore. But as she was thinking about a couple of ideas to make her swallow her stupid pillow, Tsukiyo was suddenly staring straight at her. And her eyes were not gentle. Neither nasty. But there was something about them that Misao didn't like.

"Well, since you're fully awake, I can explain a few rules to you."

As Misao didn't reply, she went on.

"First, you can go wherever you want to in this house except for my bedroom that I'll show you if I think about it… and the room next to this one: there's a dragon sleeping there."

She had said the last line as if she was confiding something and for the first time, Misao wondered about Tsukiyo's sanity.

"There's a cook if you're hungry, ask him what you want. There are several maids too. Second, you don't go out unless I tell you can. If you try, I'll know it as soon as your feet cross the threshold."

During her speech, she had come closer to Misao and she was now holding her chin gently but firmly.

"And trust me, I hate it when someone disobeys me."

Misao was now boiling with anger and she slapped Tsukiyo's hand away furiously.

"First, I'm not a child or your prisoner. And if I want to go out, I'll do. Trust me, a ninja of the Oniwabanshû can be very efficient."

Misao was pretty satisfied when she saw Tsukiyo leaving the room and leaning against the mezzanine. She gazed down at the large room (Misao was sure it was the center of the house) and she sighed.

"Ninjas are such a pain in the ass."

Misao felt blood rushing to her head.

"And they are so weak."

She had said the last line with a small smile of contempt that Misao couldn't stand. She was mocking her! She was mocking the Oniwabanshû!

"Weak? Aoshi-sama is ten times better than Saitou!"

"Who?"

"Aoshi-sama! Shinomori Aoshi, the Okashira of the Oniwabanshû! The best ninja of Japan and one of the best swordsmen!"

"Never heard about him."

Misao was half-choking with anger. But as she was about to start a long speech about Aoshi's virtues, she was stopped by Tsukiyo who was now looking at her coldly. Misao was sure she was doing something with her Ki again because this sensation…

"Listen carefully. Nobody, not even your dear Aoshi-_sama_, can come here if I don't want to. This house is my kingdom and I am the Queen. Think what you want but I warn you, don't underestimate me Makimachi Misao."

She was dominating Misao with her height and her eyes were piercing through her soul. Eventually, she broke the visual contact and she moved away.

"Third rule… you wear a kimono, not your uniform of ninja. If it's too tight, you can wear it like I do. "

As a prostitute… But Misao didn't dare to say what she was thinking. There was no way she was going to dress like that! With a kimono barely fastened which let appear too much legs and too much shoulders! SHE had decency!

"See you soon…"

And with that, Tsukiyo left.

Infuriated, Misao went downstairs. There was no way she was going to stay in this stupid house with this stupid woman and her stupid rules! She was now in the central room and she didn't know exactly where to go. Searching through her memory, she tried to remember the way to the front door. She was almost certain it was the corridor on the right. Smiling triumphantly, she made her way to the exit.

"I would not do that if I were you."

She froze. There was someone in the room. And she had already heard this voice before. But she couldn't recall when. Slowly, on her guard, she turned round. At first, she didn't see anyone. But soon, he emerged from the shadows and she recognized him. Even if she had only seen him once, she hadn't forgotten him: Tenken no Soujirou, the guy who could match Kenshin's speed. She felt her heart sinking as he looked at her with his eternal smile.

"I'm serious. If you go out, she will be angry. Listen …"

"Don't come closer!"

He stopped dead. Ruffling his hair, he looked down with embarrassment.

"Er… I didn't…"

"What are you doing here?"

She was the allegory of distrust at this moment and he couldn't really blame her. But she was getting on his nerves.

"I live here."

He saw pure shock reflecting in her eyes (which were beautiful he noticed). But it was replaced immediately with fear… fear and anger.

"Excuse-me? Is it a joke?"

"No."

His voice was colder: really, she was annoying with all her questions.

"You are a friend of Himura-san, aren't you?"

She glared at him.

"I remember your face."

He was hoping she would tell him her name but it was a complete failure.

"Er… I'm Seta Soujirou. I'm…"

"I know who you are Tenken."

Well, he didn't remember her very well but obviously, she remembered him perfectly.

"I'm Makimachi Misao, ninja of the Oniwabanshû. I know exactly who you are."

Well she really didn't like him. He smiled wider: she stepped back.

"So you know Shinomori Aoshi?"

"If I know him? Of course I do. Aoshi-sama is…"

But her voice faded before the words come out. She couldn't trust him.

"So why are you living here?"

"Tsukiyo-sama shelters me, that's all."

Tsukiyo-sama? She snorted at the word. But if he noticed, he didn't say anything.

"Don't go out without her permission. She's not… wicked (she raised her eyebrows at his pause), if you ask her to go out, she'll probably let you."

And with that, he turned round and disappeared in one of the (too many) corridors.

She stood alone in the room, alone in this house with a lunatic and an assassin. She was feeling sick suddenly.

* * *

It was ridiculous. Everything here was ridiculous: this woman, her rules, her ridiculously big house, her even more ridiculously big bathroom… and it was so ridiculous that it was making her angry. Plunging her head into the hot water, she sighed. And as she was looking at the small bubbles surfacing, her thoughts drifted to the Tenken and what people had told about him. If she recalled properly, he was a prodigy and as fast as Kenshin (she had seen it with her own eyes but that was still something hard to accept). And he was Shishio's henchman. Shishio… the man who had tried to destroy Japan, the man who had been Aoshi's associate. She closed her eyes painfully. Tenken no Soujirou… she was stuck with him in this house. The nightmare was going on.

Suddenly, she got her head out of the water. Trying to get her breath back, she took an important decision: she was going to question Tsukiyo and she was going to have answers! And if she didn't like these answers, she would leave immediately with or without Tsukiyo's consent. And she and Saitou could go to Hell after that!

And with this new resolution, Misao left the water. Angrily, she put on her uniform (she had nothing else to wear anyway) and she went upstairs. But Tsukiyo wasn't in her usual room. And Misao didn't know where her bedroom was. Great! She had a resolution but she couldn't do anything. Sighing, she scanned the other doors.

_"You can go wherever you want to in this house except for my bedroom that I'll show if I think about it… and the room next to this one: there's a dragon sleeping in there." _

A dragon… Could it be the Tenken's room? Well, perfect! He was going to tell her where her dear Tsukiyo-sama was. But when she arrived in front of his door, she hesitated. This guy… Kenshin said he was like him before he found his answers… or something like that. If he was like the Kenshin of the Revolution, like the Battousai… But she wasn't afraid! She was a ninja for God's sake! But before she could knock, the shoji slid open and in front of her was now standing Tsukiyo, smiling triumphantly (what triumph? Misao didn't know).

"Ah Misao-chan, I see you met Soujirou."

Soujirou? Where was the –san or the –kun? What was their relationship exactly? Oh God! Could they be lovers? Argh! But she was so much older than him! How old was he, by the way? Tsukiyo was looking at her and seemed to be very amused by Misao's confusion. When Soujirou appeared behind her lover (because she could only be her lover! What a shame!), Misao stared at him. He stared at her, smiling. But he didn't say anything and Misao didn't smile at all. The atmosphere was thick with tension… tension between the two kids. Tsukiyo looked at them and smiling brightly, she clapped her hands.

"Well, well, well… I see you're getting on pretty well together. That's a good thing!"

Getting on pretty well? Who was she kidding? And why the hell was she so cheerful? Anger flared again inside Misao and the resolution came back.

"I want to leave."

Well the last part of the resolution. She didn't want answers anymore. Sighing heavily, Tsukiyo stopped smiling. Not the Tenken…

"I told you… you can't leave. I promised Saitou-san."

"I don't care."

"Well I'm sure you don't but I care so you stay here."

"No!"

"No?"

"No, I leave."

"Really? And who is going to save you this time, eh?"

Maybe it was the worst thing she could have said and Misao felt shame interlacing with her anger.

"Ah you don't answer. Maybe you don't know. Let me tell you."

And slowly, like a mother would do with her daughter, Tsukiyo leaned forward to whisper in Misao's ear.

"Nobody."

Her voice was soft, so soft. It made her words only harsher.

She looked like Shishio when she acted like that: merciless, cruel, and powerful. She looked like Shishio but she wasn't like him. He knew it. Shishio would never have helped him as she did when he was lost in his quest, he would never have smiled and told him it was okay, he would never have shown compassion, he would never have promised to help him find his answers. No she wasn't like Shishio. But he didn't think that Makimachi Misao knew that at the moment. He watched the poor girl be humiliated; he watched her give up and accept that she was stuck here. He watched her but he felt nothing… no pity, no sympathy… just nothing.

Tsukiyo seemed satisfied and left the room. But as she was walking away, she stopped and turned round gracefully (she was always graceful, he had noticed that too).

"But you know Misao-chan… Everybody is weak at birth. If you want to be stronger, I have a suggestion for you."

Gulping, Misao raised her head and looked at her. Stronger? A suggestion?

"I can train you and you'll be stronger."

Train her?

"So what do you think of it? Yes or no?"

Stronger?

Soujirou was looking at her, waiting for her answer. There was something strange about this "suggestion". Tsukiyo training someone seemed… weird. After what she had told him, he couldn't believe it.

"Yes."

Of course, the girl accepted. He supposed it was logical: nobody liked to be humiliated. Tsukiyo smiled and there was something in her smile which looked a lot like Shishio. She was manipulating the ninja, he was sure of it.

"Good. Your training will start tomorrow with Soujirou."

"What!"

Both youngsters had shouted at the same time and even Soujirou had dropped the smile.

"Come on! It will be good for you. Gotta go! See you soon."

And she left.

Misao looked at Soujirou. He didn't seem to be pleased. Glancing at her, he didn't say anything. He couldn't refuse. But that was not funny. When Misao went back to her room in silence, he didn't move. No, that was definitely not funny.

_As the spider spins her web, Misao chooses her path. How many tears will she shed to reach happiness? _

* * *

So... do you think that Tsukiyo is Soujirou's lover (OMG another Demi Moore XD)? Is she really insane? Will love blossom between Soujirou and Misao? (things are off to a bad start XD).

Your opinion interests me! (Yes, that's a lame attempt to get reviews).


	7. Chasing the dragon

A big thanks for your reviews!

I know that Soujirou is faster than Kenshin! But it's Misao's point of view and she only saw their first fight when Soujirou broke Kenshin's katana. And even if Kenshin told her Soujirou was faster, I doubt she really believed him (it's hard to believe it when you didn't see it).

* * *

Chapter Six

**Chasing the dragon**

_Never thought you'd make me perspire.  
Never thought I'd do you the same.  
Never thought I'd fill with desire.  
Never thought I'd feel so ashamed. _

Me and the dragon  
Can chase all the pain away.  
So before I end my day,  
Remember…

_My sweet prince-  
You are the one  
My sweet prince-  
You are the one_

_My Sweet Prince, Placebo_

N-O W-A-Y! Definitely no way! She was a ninja of the Oniwabanshû and she was proud of it. Her uniform was so much more than a uniform: it was… it was her! Her true self. When she was wearing it, she was fine, comfortable. But how Tsukiyo could understand? With her stupid kimonos and her long hair always down. When you're not a fighter, it's easy to show off.

Glaring at the poor clothes on her bed, Misao was fuming. To be honest, it wasn't the kimono which was putting her in such a state: it was the training. She had been fooled by Tsukiyo again and that was something her ego couldn't bear. Training with the Tenken… it seemed so wrong, so out of place! She couldn't understand why the stupid woman had decided something so absurd. Obviously, the Tenken didn't like the idea either.

Frustrated, Misao let out a cry of rage. Casting a nasty look at the kimonos nicely folded on the bed, she sighed. Her uniform was really a mess: she had to change. Snatching the gi (it was a training, who was stupid enough to train in a kimono?), she changed. Looking at herself in the mirror, she made a face. She looked like Kaoru during a practice. Her thoughts drifted to Kenshin and the others. Was she really a danger for them? Because she wanted to see them so badly.

Sighing again, she left her bedroom but not without a last deathly glare towards the innocent kimono. She didn't know exactly what she should do: going to the Tenken's room? Waiting for him in the central room? Killing Tsukiyo? (She liked the last suggestion very much!). But the noise of a door slamming stopped her thoughts. If the mezzanine had an interest, it was that you could see all the central room from there.

It was the Tenken. And he looked pretty tired. Had he spent all the night outside? Snorting with disapproval, Misao thought it was her lucky day: the Tenken was obviously too tired to train her properly! But he suddenly raised his head and Misao was entranced by his blue eyes. She stopped breathing. There was no smile, no fake joy. Just a look she couldn't read, she couldn't escape. But it lasted only a few seconds. Closing his eyes, the smile came back and with a cheerful voice, he greeted her.

"Good morning, Makimachi-san."

"Good morning… Seta-san."

Why was she calling him Seta-san instead of Tenken? She wasn't sure. Maybe it was because of the way he had looked at her. His eyes had been so dangerous. And she still recalled what had happened to Kenshin's blade.

"Er… About the training, I thought we could do it here. It's still raining so the garden is useless. Is it okay for you?"

"Of… of course."

Eventually, she came back to her senses and she went downstairs. She noticed absentmindedly that he was dry. It was strange since it was raining non-stop.

"So… you're a ninja."

"Yes."

"I see."

He was ruffling his hair with embarrassment. He didn't know anything about ninjas. And it was not the advice of Tsukiyo which was going to help him.

_"What should I do for the training? I mean…" _

_"Oh I'm sure you'll find something. Don't worry."_

And with that, she had waved to him in a way which could only mean "I don't care and now get out of here". Really, she could be… annoying. And her ideas could be so stupid!

"Well, I think we could work on your speed."

He saw a flicker of surprise in her eyes which was immediately replaced with determination.

"Ok!"

A strong determination obviously. The girl looked like a terrified fawn one minute ago and now she had fire in her eyes. She was almost scary.

"Good, let's go then."

Suppressing a yawn, Soujirou started the training, unaware of the presence of Tsukiyo in the mezzanine, looking at them with a sad smile.

* * *

Days passed and nothing changed. Soujirou was training Misao every morning, despite the fact that he was outside every night. Misao had no idea about what was keeping him awake all the night and truthfully, she wasn't sure she wanted to know it. When he wasn't smiling like an idiot (which was rare), his expression was so strange that she was even more uncomfortable. And yet, she couldn't reproach him for anything: he was patient with her even if she wasn't making any progress. This training was a total waste of time but she didn't dare to say it to him. She knew it was a stupid behaviour because he must think the same and she was sure he would rather sleep than train her. But she also knew that he wouldn't disobey Tsukiyo.

After having watched them a few days, she had decided they weren't lovers. Why? Well, call it instinct or whatever you like, but Misao knew it. But still, their relationship was strange. She supposed it was logical since Tsukiyo and the Tenken were pretty strange themselves. The young woman rarely left her bedroom and when she did, she only went to her second favourite room, where she spent all the night. Misao had already tried to spy on her several times but Tsukiyo had sensed her Ki each time.

Sighing, Misao thought that, at least, she wasn't obliged to wear a kimono. When Tsukiyo had seen Misao wearing the gi all the day, she hadn't said anything. Misao wasn't even sure she remembered her stupid rules.

"Misao-chan! Soujrou!"

Oh oh… Tsukiyo was calling them. What could she want again? Sighing heavily, Misao stood up and left the bedroom. Tsukiyo was in the central room. Correction: Tsukiyo and the Tenken were in the central room. This guy was worse than a dog, always showing up immediately when she was calling him. In no hurry, Misao joined them.

"Ah! I thought you could go out since it stopped raining."

Misao's eyes lit up!

"This is a shopping list. Take it Soujirou."

A shopping list? Wait! They were going to do some shopping for Tsukiyo? Misao wanted suddenly to murder her but the pale woman took her hand.

"And this is the money. Buy anything you want. I mean… you should decorate your bedroom. Or if you don't want to, then… I don't known, enjoy yourself! You too Soujirou."

Misao stared at her in disbelief. The purse was really heavy. She was about to refuse so much money but Tsukiyo seemed so uncertain and hopeful at the same time that Misao didn't dare. Gulping, she smiled.

"Thank you, Tsukiyo-san."

The woman flashed her a quick smile.

"Well, see you soon."

But as she was reaching the stairs, she stopped. Without turning round, she said:

"I'm counting on you Soujirou."

"I know Tsukiyo-sama. Don't worry."

Her voice was serious. His was… as usual: appallingly cheerful. Misao suddenly felt like an idiot. Something was going on between them and she had no idea of what it could be. But Tsukiyo had already left and the Tenken was now waiting for her, his fake smile still there.

As Tokyo was coming alive again, Misao was feeling like a new person. The rainy season was over and sun was now bathing the streets of the city, which were crowded with merchants and their customers. Misao was running from a stall to another, looking at everything… looking at nothing really… just enjoying her feeling of freedom. She had been locked in this house too long and she needed to move. Here, out in the open, she realized how much the atmosphere of the house was oppressive: there was not enough windows to let the sun come in, not enough noise to prove that there were humans who lived there. Chasing away these thoughts, Misao decided to stop caring today. And laughing without specific reason, she pursued her crazy shopping.

He didn't understand. What was so great about shopping? The girl was going from a stall to another so fast that he was sure she wasn't even looking at the products. Even Yumi who had always loved to spend money had never been so cheerful while buying something. Wait… the girl wasn't even buying something. No he definitely didn't understand her at all. Not that he cared actually. Sure, he could have done without having to train her but it was… okay. She was a little bit too loud sometimes (especially with the cook and the maids) but apart from that, he couldn't reproach her for anything. He knew she was afraid of him and that she didn't trust Tsukiyo (and that was really stupid because Tsukiyo only wanted to protect her). But he didn't mind about her being scared of him. It spared him too many questions. He had enough on his mind already; he didn't need a nosy ninja. Still watching her lazily, he thought that the only thing he needed at the moment was a good rest. And a hot bath. Maybe a good rest in a hot bath… God! This girl couldn't keep still. It was almost annoying.

Suddenly, Misao stopped and stared straight at him. His smile never faltering, he joined her.

"Er… we should buy the things on the list now."

"Yes, good idea."

And so he gave her the list: he was tired today. And the training every morning wasn't settling things. Not that he was making a great deal of effort really. Speed training… it had been a brilliant idea. The girl was faster than he thought she would be but she was no match for him. He suppressed a yawn when he saw her coming back towards him. Old habits die hard he supposed, and being polite was his oldest habit… even older than the smile.

"I think we have everything."

"Good. Do you want to buy something with the rest of the money?"

She looked at him, unsure of what to do. She didn't like the idea of spending money which wasn't hers… or Okina's. But the Tenken didn't seem to be shocked at all by the fact that Tsukiyo was giving them money just like that, without any reason.

"I'm not sure…"

"She would be sad if you don't spend it."

He had sensed her hesitation. But Tsukiyo liked to spoil people. Well some people at least.

"Oh! Okay then."

This time, he followed close behind her. She thought it was because he wanted to buy something too. After all, the money was for both of them. But he wasn't looking very interested in anything. As usual… she thought disdainfully. She was glancing at him non-stop and he was enjoying it greatly. He knew he shouldn't but making her nervous was… amusing. Shishio would probably have told him that it was just the satisfaction to have power over someone. Yeah, Shishio would probably have said something like that… if he was still alive. Soujirou sighed unconsciously. Sometimes, he missed the time when things were easier, when there was no questions, no hesitations, no confusion… when Shishio was there to explain everything… in Shishio's own way of course.

"Er… Tenken."

"H'mm?"

"Don't you think Tsukiyo-san is a bit… strange?"

She wasn't sure why she was asking him that. Maybe because they were out of the house for the first time and with the distance, she realized that there was something definitely wrong there. Maybe because the Tenken was looking more like an innocent boy than an assassin in the sunlight. Maybe because Misao was still acting before thinking. He looked at her, obviously interested (and that was the first time she was seeing him like that). The smile had faltered a bit and the unreadable look was back. She gulped but she didn't look away.

"You haven't noticed yet?"

"Uh? No, what?"

She was confused.

"She smokes opium every night."

He said that as if he was talking about sewing or origami. She stared at him, shocked. Opium? In a split second, everything made sense: the strange odour in the room where she was spending her nights, her torpor, and the fact that she was always moody. That was the effects of the opium. But why…?

"Why?"

He looked at her with an expression she could fully understand now: arrogance. She had the sudden urge to smack his face but she controlled herself. It was obvious he was mocking her but he had information and she wanted them.

"To forget I suppose."

His voice was perfectly neutral and it irritated her. Was it a game for him? She couldn't hide her anger when she spoke:

"To forget what?"

"Whatever is making her so sad."

Glancing at her with his cocky grin (he looked almost like Saitou, she realized with utter horror), he carried on:

"You noticed it, eh? That she was sad."

That was too much! She exploded:

"Of course I did! Do you think I'm stupid?"

Then, trying to lower her voice, she added:

"I didn't notice about opium because, unlike you, I'm not a criminal."

She saw a flicker of anger in his eyes and he gripped nervously his katana. But she didn't look away. Finally, he broke the staring contest.

"We should go back. It's getting late."

He was smiling brightly but his eyes and his voice were as cold as an iceberg. Satisfied with having angered him, she turned round and she started to walk home. He followed her, his icy stare never leaving her.

* * *

Night had fallen and the streets of Tokyo were now deserted. The air was still warm and there was no wind: summer was there. A tall shadow was leaning against the wall, waiting. Several minutes later, the huge wooden door opened and she appeared. In the darkness, she was almost invisible, the moon lighting up only her pale face and her small smile. She leant against a wall, on the other side of the street, but she didn't look at him once.

"Shukumei."

"Shinomori… Long time no see, eh?"

"Almost 15 years."

"So long... "

Her voice was faraway. His was as cold as ever.

"You are taller."

"You didn't change."

"Yes… I stay young forever."

Her tone was ironic, almost bitter.

"You're here for Misao-chan? She's a nice girl. She's… funny. Very lively. A bit stubborn but lively. "

"I know."

"And she's not bad… for a ninja."

"I know."

"You know a lot of things, don't you?"

She was clearly annoyed now.

"What are you doing with the Tenken?"

"Nothing."

"Answer me."

"I'm chasing the dragon."

Her tone was mocking.

"I see."

"Really?"

"Do you really think I'm going to let Misao live with him?"

"Well, you tell me. After all, you were his ally…"

"I don't trust him."

"I don't care."

"I don't trust you."

"Ouch! That hurts."

She chuckled.

"Don't worry Okashira. I promised Saitou-san I would take care of her. "

"I don't trust a woman who killed her own father."

Silence fell suddenly and the tension in the street became palpable.

"Whatever you say Shinomori."

But as she was opening the door, he grabbed her arm painfully.

"I know your projects with the Tenken. If something happens to Misao, I'll kill him. And if you use her, I'll kill you."

"Humph… You sure are strong Shinomori. But tell me, why aren't you the one protecting her? Eh?"

And with that, she jerked her arm away from him and disappeared.

_What secrets lie between Aoshi and Tsukiyo? Why the Okashira of the Oniwabanshû doesn't protect Misao himself?_

* * *

A few notes: - Chasing the dragon is a way of smoking heroin. It usually involves placing powdered heroin on foil and heating it from below with a lighter. The heroin turns to a sticky liquid and wriggles around like a Chinese dragon. Fumes are given off and are inhaled sometimes thorough a rolled up newspaper, magazine or tube. So I know that she doesn't smoke heroin but opium but I like the expression.  
Moreover, in the story, you can interpret it two ways... 

- Origami is the Japanese name for the art of paper folding.

So... what did you think of it?


	8. Do you think you can help me?

I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. University kept me busy and I realized a few days ago that I hadn't updated for TWO months! I don't think you're going to forgive me with this chapter because it's rather short and there's not a lot of "action". And I know that Soujirou's fans are going to hate me after this chapter LOL.

By the way, the song **I know it's over** by the Smiths is really beautiful and the music is perfect for this chapter ;)

* * *

Chapter Seven

**Do you think you can help me?**

_Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head  
And as I climb into an empty bed  
Oh well. Enough said._

_I know it's over - still I cling  
I don't know where else I can go_

_Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head  
See, the sea wants to take me  
The knife wants to slit me  
Do you think you can help me ?_

_I know it's over, The Smiths_

As the sun was rising up peacefully, he was coming back here, in this strange house where even stranger people were living. "Living"… what a presumptuous word! Tsukiyo was just… there, as if she was waiting for something which would never come. Or maybe she wasn't waiting for anything anymore. She was alive, her body was there but her mind seemed faraway, in a place that nobody besides her could reach. He wasn't better: even though he wasn't a complete zombie yet, he wasn't really living in this house. Was he living at all? He was spending every night outside, sharing his time between Tsukiyo's "missions" and the warm yet so cold bodies of the prostitutes. Then he would came back, train the stupid girl and go to bed directly. No time to live, no time to think.

A sweet scent of cooking was already perfuming the house when he came back and his stomach growled loudly. Silently, he went to the kitchen to snag something and he fled to his bedroom. He didn't like the kitchen. Probably because it was the only room where people were… well, lively. He could often hear laughs and loud conversations coming from there. The maids liked gathering and gossiping with the cook. And since the coming of the stupid girl, it was louder than before. It was logical: she was so lively that she was attracted to the kitchen, where she could chatter endlessly and scream and do all these annoying and noisy things she liked to do.

_"I'm not a criminal." _

Of course, she was not. She was nothing at all. Everybody was lying to her and she was totally oblivious. Anger and frustration were boiling inside him. And the more he thought about it, the angrier he was. And he hated that. He really hated that. He wanted to scream and break something… anything… everything. His hand was twitching to take his katana, he was breathing with difficulty and his mind was swirling with memories of his childhood, Shishio and his stupid fight with Himura. And these stupid answers when he wasn't even sure he knew the questions.

The wooden wall in front of him was innocent. Too bad for it, Soujirou was a criminal. His fist went off with an amazing speed but it never reached the wall. Instead, a cold hand caught his wrist, a scent of rose and opium assaulted him and when Tsukiyo embraced him to take him away from the wall, he didn't resist. He knew that sleep was treacherous: only haunting nightmares were waiting for him. But the bed was warm, Tsukiyo's hand in his hair was soothing and weariness was too strong. He surrendered: when you sleep, you don't think. She watched over him for a long time.

* * *

Opium… She did not know a lot about drugs but she was not stupid. It was dangerous, far too dangerous to let Tsukiyo continue. But what could she do? Trying to mention the topic directly with her? Awkward! Trying to stop her dealer? Yeah, sure! She couldn't even go out alone. Asking for the Tenken's help? Hell would be freezing before she ever asked him anything, and she was sure he didn't give a damn anyway. But why had he told her about it? She had no idea. Maybe it was just a game for him. After all, his smile and his fake cheerfulness were sufficient proof that he was a total psycho. But she had to help Tsukiyo. Maybe if she knew what was making her so sad, she could resolve the problem and make her stop the opium. But then again, talking about this with her seemed a little weird. Her last option was Saitou. The stupid wolf seemed to know her pretty well. So maybe she could ask him. Yes maybe… but that was Saitou for God's sake!

Sighing loudly, she stuffed her pillow over her head. Today, she could stay in bed late: Tsukiyo had told her that there was no training this morning. She didn't say why and Misao didn't ask. Because first, she didn't give a damn about the Tenken. And second, she didn't know how to act with Tsukiyo now. Misao knew she wouldn't stop staring at her and the older woman would question her. So no training today and probably no outing. Good! After her quarrel with the Tenken yesterday, she wasn't in a hurry for a stroll in the city with the smiling psycho.

As she was glancing around her, her eyes stopped on the gorgeous cupboard. It was probably Chinese. The wood was blood-red and finely sculptured. Standing up, Misao went closer. Softly, she grazed the piece of furniture, feeling the delicate curves of the wood. There were several sculptured dragons. Dragons… If the Tenken was a dragon, then so was Kenshin. Misao smiled softly at the thought of the small red-haired man. She wanted to see him so badly. And Kaoru and Aiko and Kenji. And Okina …. And Aoshi. A lump was forming in her throat and, closing her eyes, Misao tried to calm herself. She didn't want to cry. If she started crying now, she wasn't sure she would be able to stop.

Trying to keep her mind busy, she opened the closet. There were several kimonos: blue, pink, purple. Only luminous colours. Tsukiyo's clothes were always dark. Like her world, Misao thought sadly. She took the blue kimono and unfolded it. The silk was so light, the pattern so precise… Hidden from everyone in her room, Misao thought she could try to put it for once. Hidden from everyone…

* * *

He had a bad presentiment. Since that stupid monk/moron/ninja had talked to him, he had had this nagging feeling that something was wrong. Honestly, he could understand why Aoshi was annoyed with Misao's staying at Tsukiyo's house (annoyed was a nice euphemism, furious was more appropriated). But Aoshi was not stupid yet (with the amount of green tea that the Okashira was gulping down daily, Saitou was convinced it would not last too long), he knew that there was no safer place than the house of Tsukiyo. But peace was no good for people like him and Aoshi. And the wolf was in a good position to know that one meeting with an old face of the Bakumatsu was enough to push oneself back into the chaos of the war. His spy had told him about the meeting between Tsukiyo and Aoshi. They had not butchered each other yet but Saitou knew he had to intervene now, before things get ugly.

As usual, they let him enter the house freely. The place seemed empty but he knew she was there: she never went out. The shoji of the central room was wide open and he saw her finally. She was sitting on the engawa, looking at the garden. The wind blew suddenly and she turned her head on the side to protect her face. Her long hair was streaming in the wind and their eyes met. Memories came back forcefully. He remembered the same scene fifteen years ago: the same wind, the same long hair and her eyes… so dark, so unreadable, and so powerful. Except that in those days, he had not been the one she had been looking at. In those days, it was the Bakumatsu and fate had already played its cruellest prank on Tsukiyo. As she looked away, he snapped back to reality. For several seconds, neither of them spoke. Sighing, Saitou strolled beside her and sat on the engawa. Picking his box of cigarettes, he lightened the delicious stick of tobacco and enjoyed the first puff.

"He doesn't know anything".

Her voice was slightly tremulous and he could tell she was angry. He thought she had lost the ability to be angry or furious a long time ago… he had been wrong. And he really did not like that.

"What happened?"

He saw her hand twitching and he wondered if a samurai could really lose fighting spirit.

"What happened?"

He sighed. He had been there for only a few minutes and she was already getting on her nerves.

"Listen, I know Shinomori can be…"

But he stopped when she grabbed his shirt abruptly. She was now looking at him, her eyes blazing with anger. He knew these eyes, he remembered them. And he remembered their meaning too.

"If he talks about my father again, I'll kill him."

Yes, it looked like the meaning was still the same.

"He's strong, you know. In a duel, you would probably lose."

He knew it was a stupid remark: she would never fight a duel with him. She would never break her promise.

"I know. But I never said it would be a fair fight."

Silence fell once more. She was gazing into space and he was doubting the virtues of green tea. Because frankly, only a total moron would have mention the topic of her father.

"And tell him to go and see Misao the next time he comes."

"Why?"

"Because!"

And she made an infuriated sound. In his opinion, the weasel should grow up and abandon her Aoshi-sama but his vision was probably not romantic enough for Tsukiyo.

"Where is the Tenken?"

She cast him a nasty glance but answered.

"He's sleeping."

"Tired of his life of debauchery?"

"Excuse-me?"

"Don't make this face; you know what I'm talking about."

"He's young, don't judge him."

"I'm talking of your business."

"Ah… well, it's just import-export."

"You think I'm stupid?"

"Well…"

"Saitou!"

The piercing voice of Misao stopped their exchange and they both turned round to look at the young girl. She was panting softly, her cheeks were slightly flushed and her hair was a bit messed up. She was wearing the purple kimono and was looking at Saitou and Tsukiyo expectantly. The wolf thought that, for once, Misao looked like a real girl. Tsukiyo was watching her like a strange-looking creature again.

"What do you want Weasel?"

Misao gulped angrily but didn't reply. She had heard Saitou's voice while she was still trying the different kimonos. Without thinking, she had rushed straight. She noted absentmindedly that she had been fast. Actually, she had been faster than usual. Maybe the training was useful after all. But she had not thought twice before coming here and interrupting them and now, she was feeling a bit… intrusive. Saitou and Tsukiyo were sitting side-by-side, their shoulders were touching and as they were half-turned to look at her, their faces were close… really close. And they didn't seem to feel awkward at all!

"Did she lose her tongue, Tsukiyo?"

"Eh? No."

"Aoshi-sama… Eh, I mean… How… How is he doing?"

She was feeling stupid, dressed in this kimono, watched by the two adults and asking Saitou Hajime about Aoshi. But he was her only contact with the exterior so she did not really have the choice, did she?

"Do I look like a postman? Or a messenger? Uh?"

He had lightened another cigarette and his voice was colder than ice. He wasn't even looking at her. Misao bowed her head and turned round, too ashamed to look at him, too sad to stay with them. She did not see Tsukiyo's glaring at Saitou. Instead, she just went upstairs, her pace slow and her spirit defeated.

"You're cruel."

"She's eighteen. Maybe she should grow up."

"But… I think she's really… you know…"

"What? You think she loves him? Come on! That's stupid."

"She's young."

"So were you."

"What are you talking about! It has nothing to do!"

"Exactly."

He stood up smoothly and adjusted his katana.

"The girl mixes up love and admiration. If you had done the same, you wouldn't be a zombie now."

She looked away, he did not add anything. As he went away, he heard her voice, strong and a bit too commanding for his liking.

"Tell Shinomori to talk to her the next time he comes."

"If it pleases you…"

"It does."

* * *

Tears were there, hot and threatening. But Misao would not let them fall. Never! Instead, she was holding her hairbrush so tightly that her knuckles were white: she had to control herself. She heard a faint knock and the voice of Tsukiyo.

"Can I come in?"

Misao resisted the urge to say no: that would be impolite and cause her more problems. Her voice was a bit thick:

"Yes, come in."

The shoji opened slowly and Tsukiyo appeared. There was no malice in her eyes, no pity either. Just an understanding expression that Misao was not sure she liked. Tsukiyo came closer. Sitting beside her, she took the hairbrush that the young girl had dropped on the bed a few seconds before Tsukiyo came in. For a moment, nobody spoke.

"Can I ask you something?"

Misao had spoken first. If she was the first to ask questions, Tsukiyo would not question her.

"Of course."

"What's your name?"

A look of surprise crossed her face. Misao knew that the question seemed a bit silly but the truth was that she still did not know the last name of Tsukiyo.

"Shukumei… Shukumei Tsukiyo."

"Shukumei. That's… beautiful."

"No it's not."

Tsukiyo had bowed her head again and was looking at the brush in her hands.

"And when did you meet Saitou?"

"H'mm… a long time ago, at the beginning of the Bakumatsu."

"Oh! Were you in Kyoto at this moment?"

"Yes… I was living in Edo."

Her voice was faraway, lost in a past long gone.

"Did you… fight during Bakumatsu?"

Misao knew it seemed stupid to imagine someone like Tsukiyo as a fighter but her meeting with Saitou during the Revolution, her ability to control Ki…

"Not… really."

"Ah…"

Silence filled the room again but Misao did not know what to say anymore. She could not speak of the opium. And what was making her sad… But Tsukiyo raised her head suddenly. Following her eyes, Misao saw Soujirou standing at the door, his eyes cold, his face expressionless and not a shadow of a smile. He was glaring at Misao and she felt shivers up her spine.

"I'm leaving."

"Okay."

"I'll be back tomorrow morning."

"Okay."

He gripped his katana nervously and went away. He had looked at Tsukiyo while talking to her but his last glance had been towards Misao. And it was not a kind look. Tsukiyo did not move. She did not say anything. And Misao felt her stomach tying in a knot, a mixing of anger and confusion: she was the Tenken's enemy. She did not know why but she was sure of it.

_Shattered hearts, broken dreams…Why don't you see the pain in each other's eyes? _

_

* * *

_

So, do you hate me LOL? I know that a lot of you won't like Soujirou's "seeing" prostitutes but he's a young boy with hormones and psychological problems, he grew up in this environment and it's more about loneliness and emptiness than sex (even though the last part is important too). I think I will explain this aspect of his life later.

Do you think I should change the rating ?


	9. The same as them

Sorry for the lack of updates! I couldn't find the words at first and then, I started 3 other projects.

Thanks for the reviews! I hope you'll keep enjoying this story :)

* * *

Chapter Eight

**The Same as Them**

_"These precious things  
Let them bleed, let them wash away  
These precious things  
Let them break their hold over me"_

_Tori Amos, These Precious Things  _

_He was warm. Everything around him was soft and mellow, he could hear the sound of the logs crackling in the flames and the odour of wood mixed with the scent of roses. His eyes fluttered open and the headache that was menacing him since he had regained consciousness assaulted him. He was in a house, lying before a fireplace._

_And his head was hurting like hell. _

_He was not supposed to be in a house. The last thing he remembered was the snow everywhere around him. Everything was so white, so pure, so cold. And then nothing. What had happened? Who had taken him? (because it was the only explanation). And this headache driving him crazy…_

_"I see you're awake"._

_Opening his eyes, he turned his head towards the (feminine) voice. She was partially hidden in the shadows, her face glowing with the red flames. She was looking at him with a slightly despising smile. Or maybe it was just mocking. There was something strange about her. She was beautiful but he had already seen beautiful women before and it was not that. She seemed to be tall but he was rather small so there was nothing extraordinary here. Her hair was dark and really long, she was deadly pale despite the colours projected by the fire but it was not that. _

_He saw her pick his katana and he immediately felt a knot in his stomach. Fascinated, he watched her slide the katana outside the sheath. She examined the blade shining with the flames. He understood what was strange about her: this katana in her hand, it seemed awfully natural. _

_"Gorgeous katana." _

_She replaced it in the sheath. But she did not put it down. Instead, she used it like a cane to rest her face against. Awfully natural. _

_"Are you a samurai?"_

_"Samurais don't exist anymore… lady."_

_She tilted her head on the side, as if she was contemplating his words._

_"A samurai is not someone who knows how to use a katana, you know." She was eyeing him intensely, gauging his reaction. "It's someone who lives by the Bugenjô. And this, even though it's something that has always been rare, will never disappear."_

_He did not answer and he did not think she was expecting it anyway. The Bugenjô… then he doubted Shishio was a samurai. According to her definition anyway._

_"What's your name?"_

_"Soujirou."_

_He saw pure shock in her eyes, soon replaced by pain. And then, nothing. Empty eyes which gave nothing away. He wondered if he looked the same._

_"And your first name?" _

_Her voice was cooler and he could see how her body was tensed. More important, he didn't know if he should tell her his name: he did not know her and she seemed to have strange reactions. But she was still staring at him and obviously, this time, she was expecting an answer. And although he had no reason to tell her his name, he did it nonetheless. It seemed natural to speak with her. Awfully natural._

_"Seta. Seta Soujirou."_

_And for once, he did not smile. He did not feel the need to. It was confusing and at the same time… it was good to drop the fake smile, to avoid the mask even though they had always been his best protection. He did not need protection with her: he knew it, he felt it._

_He saw her eyes widen with surprise and amusement. She was so easy to read this time._

_"You are the Tenken?" She was laughing. It was a light laugh, clear and crystalline and a bit mocking. "Tenken no Soujirou?"_

_He felt his entrails turn to ice and panic struck him. That was not good, not good at all. He had to take his katana and leave this place immediately._

_"I'm Shukumei Tsukiyo." Silence fell. She was not laughing anymore and there was something else in her eyes. Something like understanding, something like sadness. "I have a proposition for you."_

He opened his eyes and looked at the embers in the fireplace. It was not the first time he dreamt of his meeting with Tsukiyo.

_"I have a proposition for you."_

If he had been logical, he would have stood up (he was not sure he could have but that was a matter of principle), taken his katana, thanked her and left without listening to her. But he had not said anything and had waited for her to speak.

He still did not know why.

Sighing, he stretched his hand towards the ceiling and examined it. How long had it been since he had not killed? His last man had been just before his fight with Kenshin, since then Soujirou had kept searching the truth, his blade in sheath. But in the end, nothing had come and he was not sure anything would ever come. The truth? The answers? The good? The evil? The more time passed, the more he doubted all of this actually existed.

And Tsukiyo would not help him: she would look at him blankly then turn away or she would smile at him in this quiet sad way. He hated this smile: it gave him the feeling that she knew his life was empty and that it would always be. Or maybe she was not thinking of his life but hers. Anyway, that was not resolving his problem. But he had thought it would be okay if things stayed this way. He could live with her, keep on working for her and even though he would not have any answers, it would not be really bad as long as he did not kill. He would not be good or evil: just… nothing. It would not be so bad.

Being nothing.

Sighing again, he sat up. The arms that were holding his waist loosely let him go without any protest. Soujirou looked at the girl lying beside her: young with long brown hair, normal-size breasts and lifeless eyes. An ordinary whore in an ordinary brothel. He wondered if his mother had looked the same. No… he did not want to know that.

As always, he felt a weight somewhere in his chest and awful feelings spinning inside his head. He stood up and gathered his clothes scattered around the futon and after having thrown the money on the table, he left hastily. In the interminable corridors, he could hear their laughter (fake, always fake), their cries of pleasure (fake, still fake), he could see their smiles (that was painful to see himself in their dull eyes, that was horribly painful). Had his mother…? No, he did not need to know.

He quickened his pace and left the building. The silence welcomed him and he was more than glad to abandon the ghostly whispers. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he passed his hand in his hair, pulling more forcefully than necessary. That's when he saw her, standing outside the building, looking at the windows in the shadows. If the anger had not blinded him, Soujirou would have seen the look of utter distress on Misao's face.

* * *

She never heard him coming. In a blink of eye, she was violently thrown against the wall and she could not breathe anymore. His grip around her throat was too strong – far too strong for someone as thin as him, she thought dazzlingly – and if the blade of his sword against her cheek was not a good enough indication, the madness in his eyes was. She was going to die, she realized. He was going to strangle her or maybe slash her and no one would save her. The same thing as in Kyoto, the same lunacy, the same despair, the same loneliness. 

She kicked him and gripped his hand around her throat in a vain attempt to make him release her. Her lungs started aching with the lack of oxygen and tears began to roll on her cheeks. It was stupid to cry, she thought in her panic. It was stupid because she needed to focus on him, to find a way to push him away. Her eyes roamed frantically over his body, looking for a weakness, a weak spot but his arm was hard as steel and she already knew she could not win.

She never understood why he let go of her.

As soon as he pulled away his hand from her neck, her legs gave out and she fell on the ground, her hand already on her throat to try to ease her pain. She choked and concentrated on her breathing, her eyes locked on his feet. He stepped back. Not really far (only two steps) but she was not sure that even the bottom of the sea would be far enough anyway. She could still feel his stare upon her, burning with rage and madness and she wondered briefly how Kenshin managed to defeat him.

"Why did you follow me?"

His voice was impossibly tensed, almost hissing with anger. He was on the verge of murder, she realized. And she was the sole object of his rage. She gulped slowly and stood up. Looking at him straight in the eyes, she hesitated. She could try to play victim and hope that he would regain what was left of his sanity, or she could stand up to him and show him she was not a poor little girl anymore. Either option was dangerous.

"What do you think? I was spying on you."

If she had to die here, at least she would die with dignity.

"Repeat that."

She flinched mentally when she heard how strained his voice was. Trying to compose herself, her mind started to work like crazy and to notice everything about him: he was holding his katana so tight that he might bleed if he continued, there was a vein pulsing madly along his throat, his forehead was covered with sweat, he was breathing with difficulty and all his muscles were tensed up. She caught a movement on her right and as she was going to turn her head to have a better look, he dropped his sword. She looked at him incredulously, half-relieved and half-worried by his gesture.

"I said: repeat that."

He caught her jaw in a steady gesture, obviously careful to not be too rough. Pressing her against the wall with his body, his voice dropped an octave and she felt his hot breath against her ear. She felt icy shivers along her spine and she gripped his gi at the waist.

"I decided to spy on you so I followed you."

Her voice was a murmur and she tried to hide her fear the best she could.

"Did you enjoy the sight?"

She knew he was smirking. There was something absolutely repugnant in his suggestion and she felt the anger taking over her previous fear. In a rush of instinct, she tried to bit his shoulder but he was faster than her and he tightened his grip on her face to keep her still.

"Oh, so you're that kind of girl? I bet Shinomori loves it, eh?"

This time, she tried to kick him with her knee but she failed again. But nothing could stop her wrath.

"Don't you dare to talk about him, don't you dare to say anything about me! I'm not like you! I'm not a murderer who goes to the whore houses every night because he has nothing and no one! I don't exploit innocent people like you do with these poor girls! Look at you, you're gonna die all alone and you know what? I hope you'll die from syphilis to avenge all the girls you screwed for a few coins!

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, really."

They stared at each other, still pressed against the wall (that's when she realized they probably looked like a whore and her client; she felt sick). She was the one in a murderous rage now but he was just looking at her with an obvious amusement and a smile that was all but fake.

"You pity them?"

"Who?"

"The whores… the poor girls I screw every night for a few coins. You pity them?"

"Oh please, you don't even know what pity is."

"So you pity them."

"You have a problem with that?"

He chuckled and looked briefly at the entrance of the brothel. When he turned his eyes toward her again, they were shining with malice and cruelty.

"You're right, you should pity them. Pity them, these poor girls selling her bodies to anyone for money. Give them all your hypocritical pity and thank the gods. Because… hey, hey, don't look away, look at me since you're so interested in their wellbeing… Because you should have been one of them… after all, everybody knows the role of the kunoichis, uh? A whore who doesn't take the money but the information, that's why you should have been. I guess you're lucky Shinomori considers you as a child."

She should have fought him, told him he was wrong, defended her pride and denied all he said. But he was right and it was enough to break her down. She knew she should have left as soon as she had seen him enter the brothel. But these girls in their indecent kimonos with their fake smiles and their broken lives… she also knew she could have been the same as them. The Okashira of nothing and no one… that's what she was. She had been protected like a precious princess her whole life thanks to Okina and Aoshi. She grew up in the Meji Era when ninjas were useless. That's why she never had to do what real ninjas must do. That's why she was not one of these girls. But the Tekken was unfair.

"And you? Don't you feel anything at all when you see them? Don't you think they are the same as you? Alone and lost, with no one to care for. Don't they make you feel sad?"

The malice left his eyes and was replaced by an unreadable gaze. He loosened his grip slowly and stepped back. Silently, he picked up his katana and put it carefully in the sheath. He started walking away.

"Soujirou!"

It was the first time she called him by his first name and the word sounded foreign to her ears.

"Don't you pity them too?"

There was something desperate in her question, like a plea for the truth. She wanted to know, she needed to know. Not for him but for herself. Maybe she had never been more selfish than in this instant. She wanted to hear him say it, to be sure that she was not alone, that someone else was lost and broken and…

"If I pity them, they will pity me too."

His words were a bit veiled by the wind and she came closer to him, closing the distance between them. She stopped a few feet away from him and stared at his back silently, waiting for him to continue.

"I still don't understand anything, I didn't find any answer but I don't want anyone's pity. Not theirs, not yours, not anyone's."

"And Tsukiyo?"

"She doesn't pity me, she… She understands me."

"I don't pity you."

Her words were oddly quiet and he felt something strange spreading through his body. It was not anger, even less amusement. It felt a bit like when Tsukiyo was comforting him. It was heavy and light at the same time and it was unstoppable.

"I'm sorry… for attacking you."

"I think you had the right to be angry. I was spying on you."

"We should go back home."

"Yeah, we should go."

They did not walk side by side; she stayed a bit behind him all the way. What happened had felt like a fight where both opponents had lost. But it was okay. There was a different awkwardness between them now and they were not sure it would pass. But there was also a mutual understanding, a tacit truce. They were empty but maybe they were not alone anymore.

_Will you find it? The warmth of a hand under the rain… did you find it?_


End file.
